My Homeless Adventure

Now, most people would see abandoning everything to live in a van as a type of crisis. However, I saw this as my opportunity to do something with my life that I was too afraid of in the past. I was going to be free for once in my life. I packed up the essentials: clothing, bedding, and a few random items for use during my down time.

I worked as a delivery driver as a freelance contractor for most of that year. I also met someone who was willing to pay me to drive them around to various locations. Nothing too fancy or too far out of the way. It was an interesting gig while it lasted, and I was able to meet new and interesting people through these travels.

One group of people that I encountered were artists. They made jewelry as well as spray painted their art on canvases of all shapes and sizes. They lived in a house seemingly in the middle of nowhere, but it was a nice place.

I had taken them to a rave in southern Ohio, where I had the pleasure of being flirted with by a stranger. I tried to console them by offering to exchange phone numbers, to which they replied they didn’t have one. Their loss, but I didn’t want to be the one to have to explain why it wouldn’t work between us.

I had been introduced to some drugs during this time, which I will admit wasn’t a bad experience. It’s something I didn’t expect, but that’s generally how things of this nature tend to be. I didn’t get addicted, but when given the opportunity, I wouldn’t always say no.

I kind of felt like I was living a dream. One that would have to end at some time. While it was going on I didn’t want it to end. I wanted this to be my life, but at the same time, I felt like I didn’t belong. Even though these people accepted me, I felt like an imposter, until I met someone that made me question my sanity.

I was given an opportunity to move past the van life, and stay in an apartment, rent free. For two months, I stayed in this apartment, but in exchange, I had to give up my van. I was hesitant at first, thinking I’d be better off on my own. But, then after a conversation that ended with my van not belonging to me anymore, and how I could be dead if they wished it, I felt the need to run away.

I spent a week in a psychiatric hospital, which was a nice retreat from reality. I had had ideations of doing something I may have regretted, and so needed to be kept under surveillance. I enjoyed being with people who truly cared and didn’t want to leave but knew I couldn’t keep running from my problems.

So, the day came I was discharged, and sent back to the apartment, where I confronted my problem, as best I could. My sibling took me into their place where I stayed until I got my own apartment and a stable job, because let’s face it, delivering without a vehicle doesn’t work.

Yet, some of the people I met through these encounters are questionable at best. The artists are a good bunch that I still try to keep in contact with on occasion. I even keep in contact with the friends I made in the hospital. Others had to be let go, as I got my footing back into society, with my own place and stable job. I still look back on those days with a certain sad fondness. It helped me understand who I am, and that not everyone is out to always do harm. However, it still helps to be wary of trusting blindly.